


Memories in the Making

by apostate (394percentdone)



Series: Three Leaf Clover [3]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27833086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/394percentdone/pseuds/apostate
Summary: collection of all the small works in the series that don't really have enough to warrant their own post, roughly 1k words or less per shot
Relationships: Astarion/Wyll (Baldur's Gate), Astarion/Wyll/Original Character(s) (Baldur's Gate), Wyll (Baldur's Gate)/Original Character(s), astarion/original characters
Series: Three Leaf Clover [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1981582
Kudos: 7





	1. Have and Hold

####  Early morning has always been a favorite of theirs. When the sunrise is still weak and blushes across the sky with only enough light to turn everything golden and misty. Little dew drops glowing sweetly on the strings holding their shared tent mostly shut. Marsaili takes a deep breath of crisp air, a feat considering Wyll’s arm is slung across their chest to hold them close. 

Warmth in the golden dawn. Relaxing while Wyll still sleeps. It’s been a long time since Marsaili has fallen into trance next to another but it doesn’t feel  _ wrong  _ like it used to. The weight of his arm on their skin is comforting instead of nauseating, his hand on their stomach is safe not threatening. What a wonder not to be afraid of another’s touch. 

It’s quiet out, probably far too early for the others to be awake yet. Or well, Marsaili curls their cold toes on Wyll’s sleep warm calf, maybe they rest of them are enjoying their own mornings. Wyll grumbles in his sleep and his hand flexes on Marsaili’s skin, cute. Maybe it’s the dawn but something soft blooms in Marsaili’s chest, flickers to life like a seedling first sprouting from the soil. Delicate and greedy for the sun. 

Sighing contentedly Marsaili slips their fingers between Wyll’s and lifts their tangled hands where they can see them. Wiggles their other hand out from under themselves and holds his hand between theirs fully. Funny how his hands are wider but Marsaili’s fingers are longer. Their calluses don’t match either, on their hand the only calluses come from a pen and a trowel but Wyll’s come from a blade and Marsaili gently runs their fingertip over each one. 

Follows the lines in his palms next, if they wanted they could read the story told in tiny marks and twisted lines in his hand but for now Marsaili is satisfied with simple touch. And they don’t plan to stop touching, not now and not ever if Wyll allows it. Tracing up his fingers, one by one, to the edge of his hand where his skin turns darker, to the joint where hand becomes wrist and Wyll’s skin is softer than Marsaili had dreamed. 

Time passes in the golden dawn but it passes in the same way molasses falls from a spoon into a tea cup. Tantalizingly slow. The dew disappears and the light turns pink and Marsaili feels the change in Wyll’s breathing with their back resting against his chest. Quietly presses a good morning kiss to his palm in greeting only to have his surprised murmur get lost in their hair. 

But he didn’t tell them to stop. 

So Marsaili kisses each fingertip, his wrist, turns his hand over and kisses the back of his hand for good measure. He shifts next to them with each fleeting touch until they’re flush against each other and his head is nestled in the crook of their neck. Cheeks warmer than the rest of his skin and Marsaili smiles.

“Be good to me, love.” Sleep lays heavily on his words softening the already tender edges. 

Rosy sunlight falls on their tangled fingers and Marsaili kisses Wyll’s hand again. Good is hopefully just their beginning. 


	2. Smudges

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> its been a long time, a very long time my dear, since astarion had someone to do his eyeliner

####  Early morning sunshine warms the back of Marsaili’s neck where they’ve pulled their hair back, fingers still finishing up the last of their plait. Camp is quiet for the moment, most everyone else is still asleep, which Marsaili prefers in the mornings. Less distractions to pull them away.

Or, as they balance their steel mirror on their lap and get out their eyeliner, less opportunity to stab themselves in the eye with that stupid stick. It isn’t often they mess up but the more people are involved the more likely they’ll divide their attention and well, it never ends well. They bend their head down and close an eye, carefully following the line of their lashes with the black pencil. A simple line curving past their eye seeing as anything more is an exercise in patience Marsaili doesn’t have. 

“So this is what you do in the mornings without me.” 

Thank Titania Marsaili had already taken their hand away from their eye. They nearly drop the pencil, when did Astarion come out of trance? “If you want to watch me I get to do your face too.” Tilting their head up Marsaili squints at him with one eye partially shut, “It’s only fair.”

It’d look good on him and Marsaili could do it easily. Come to think of it they’ve never seen Astarion with anything on his face actually. The sun turns his hair to glowing strands curling around his ears, pink dawn on his cheeks. Paused in the light, caught off guard by their question somehow. 

Astarion smirks and the moment evaporates like dew. “I’d like to see you try.”

Oh, well easy enough. Marsaili pats the grass next to them, “Sit and I’ll get to you in a minute.” They’ve only their one eye left and it’s a simple task. Returning their attention to the mirror and picking up their pencil, Marsaili hears Astarion’s huff as he seats himself beside them. Quickly they shut their eye and swipe a second line to match the first and blink at themselves in the mirror. Perfect.

Unfolding their legs Marsaili shifts sideways until their knees are across from Astarion’s, “Do you ever put eyeliner on? By yourself I mean.” They lean forward, fingertips brushing under his chin to pull him close enough to reach. 

His skin is cold everywhere the sun doesn’t reach, dawn the only warmth in his cheeks. Closing his eyes with a sigh, “Not in an age.”

Marsaili slides their hand up, thumb brushing his cheekbone and holding his head steady. “Why not?” Their pencil slides across his eyelid effortlessly, a smooth glide of dark eyeliner above his lashline. 

Smooth until Astarion wiggles under their hand and the line curves upwards well before the edge of his eye. Marsaili tightens their grip slightly with a sigh. It’s a small wobble all things considered, easily recoverable.

“I couldn’t exactly see to apply it myself, darling.” A little breathier than Marsaili was expecting, they smile softly knowing he can’t see them. Scoot a little closer, knees brushing. 

Moving onto the second eye, keeping their grip on his cheek to stop his jerking. Only slightly better this time, a series of small ridges in the eyeliner Marsaili smudges out with their fingertip. “Look up.” 

Astarion opens his eyes and directs them skyward. For all of half a second before his gaze flicks down and he twitches again. 

“Would you just hold still?” Marsaili laughs, “I’m almost done.” 

A thin line under his eyes, also needing a bit of a smudge, but Marsaili strokes his cheek with their thumb and Astarion keeps his eyes up and the sun rises behind them painting golden light across their skin. Finishing touches. 

“There.” Marsaili sits back and lets Astarion blink a few times. Lets the smile return to their lips, maybe distractions aren’t always bad things.


End file.
